The Game
by arainymonday
Summary: Kurt's job is simple: find customers rummaging ignorantly through the designer labels and help them dress their best. Blaine wants much more than fashion advice from Kurt.  Rated for explicit sexual content.


**Disclaimer: **I'm just playing in the Glee sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.

**Warnings:** Rated M for explicit sex.

**Author's Note:** This story was previously posted on my alias, letmeseeyourpeacock. There are a few stories on that account that I'm proud of, so I decided to post them here as well. I have edited for typos, but everything else about the story remains the same. I hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>THE GAME<strong>

It started with a letter. Well, not a letter. A bill. A credit card bill. Burt almost had another heart attack when he tore open the white envelope and slipped out the bill and saw his minimum due payment equaled his car payment.

"Kurt, if you want to wear those damned fancy designer clothes, you're gonna have to start helping pay for them."

And so it was that Kurt Hummel joined the legions of teenagers from middle class families who worked four hours after school and six hours on weekends to earn the money required to keep him in his designer clothes. Naturally, his first choice of employer was Neiman Marcus, and they were only too happy to have him in the men's department.

Kurt's job was simple. While the other employees with their substandard fashion knowledge straightened clothes and filled the racks, Kurt wandered around the floor searching out men rummaging ignorantly through the designer labels and helping them to dress their best. It was like getting paid to breathe. Of course, it didn't come without hazards. Neiman Marcus or no, they were still in Ohio.

But there was another kind of hazard too, one that Kurt had never expected. Sometimes, when Kurt asked politely if a customer required assistance, he got a little more than he bargained for. He'd fended off more advances than he'd thought there were gay men in Ohio. He was flattered by the requests for his phone number, dates, and some things more predatory, but he had a boyfriend.

He'd mentioned it casually, humorously once. He could tell it bothered his boyfriend, that he worried Kurt would find some other boy more handsome, smarter, richer. Kurt had laughed it off, and then insisted in earnest, that that wasn't going to happen. No one was going to steal Kurt away.

Kurt wished he hadn't made that promise the first time he saw _him_. He came in with a group of boys in blazers. Private school boys, lots of money to burn, lots of people to impress. They'd thanked Kurt for his help picking out clothes that would please the private school girls they were dating. Except for _him_; he'd thanked Kurt and eye-fucked him shamelessly while doing so. He left Kurt feeling hot around the collar and so unfocused he'd mistaken a Louboutin for a Jimmy Choo later that day.

Kurt had been honest with his boyfriend when they'd met up for their date Saturday night. He'd maybe had some trouble not flirting at work that day. His boyfriend looked away, visibly upset. Kurt felt white hot shame and swore he'd avoid the boy if he ever came into the store again.

Later that night, when he lay in bed with the house silent around him, Kurt slipped his hand into his pajamas pants and jerked off to memories of those smoldering gold-flecked hazel eyes staring openly at his lips, his hands, his ass, his crotch. He didn't tell his boyfriend about that.

_He_ came back to the store several times a week and bought just one or two items of clothing each time. A jacket here, a pair of pants there, but always an eye-fuck for Kurt. He was perfectly dapper in every other way, except the lust in those gorgeous eyes.

He started trying on the clothes and asking for Kurt's opinion, letting his hands run over the cloth a little too long and stray a little too close to areas Kurt shouldn't want to stare at because he was in a committed relationship. He dropped in casual remarks about himself, that he attended Dalton Academy, that he was in glee club, that _Music Man_ was his favorite musical, that he didn't have a boyfriend at the moment, but he'd gotten coffee with a guy who worked at the Gap a few times. Kurt scoffed at that.

"Not a fan of coffee? Or of me drinking it with someone other than you?"

It was the first time he'd made his intentions clear. Kurt arched an eyebrow.

"Not a fan of the Gap. Why would I be jealous of you having coffee with a boy? I don't even know your name."

"It's Blaine."

Blaine wouldn't leave Kurt alone. He was in the store more often and stayed longer. He was a little flirty, a little bolder every time. He began touching Kurt, just a touch of the fingertips, while they eye-fucked over a rack of sport coats. When he left, Kurt was always flushed and hard and jerked off in his bathroom as soon as he got home.

Kurt mentioned Blaine to his boyfriend less and less. When asked directly once about "that boy," he'd hedged for a moment and then lied.

"He doesn't come in anymore."

After the first lie, it got so much easier. When Blaine flirted, he flirted back a little. He twisted scarves around Blaine's neck and talked him into buying the nicest ones. He smoothed out imaginary wrinkles on the sweaters he tried on and knotted ties Blaine was perfectly capable of doing up himself.

It all happened very subtly, very slowly. So that day when Blaine took it a little too far, it shocked them both, and yet it was so easy to give in.

Kurt stood by a shelf display of button down shirts when Blaine came in that day. The store was mostly empty on Thursday nights; everyone waited to go shopping until the weekends, and it was near closing time anyway. The other assistants in the men's department, Lindsey and Kyle, had left the register to straighten; Kurt would page them if they were needed.

"I like that one," Blaine said. He pointed at a dusty blue shirt.

"I've told you before. Red is your color."

Kurt rolled his eyes playfully. Blaine tipped his head back and formed an O with his mouth, pretending not to remember the ten or fifty times Kurt had said that very thing. He wore the Dalton uniform today, a clear sign he'd come straight from Warblers practice.

"I'll bet that blue is your color."

"It is."

"I'd love to see you in it."

Kurt lifted an eyebrow. "I'm here to dress you, Blaine, not the other way around. Besides, I already own three shirts in this exact color. Adding another would be redundant and lacking imagination."

"You've never worn that color before that I've seen. Try it on for me."

"I'm working."

"Oh, come on."

Blaine gestured at the deserted floor. No other heads appeared over the clothing racks, and the music tinkling from the sound system was louder than the sound of their voices. Kurt sighed, scanned the floor again, and took the shirt off the shelf. Blaine grinned and followed Kurt to the dressing rooms. He leaned against a shelf while Kurt went inside to change into the shirt.

"I hope you know how much trouble this is," Kurt said through the door. "The outfit I have on today has five zippers and fifteen buttons."

A laugh came from outside the dressing room. "How is that even possible?"

Kurt didn't answer. He was too busy cursing loudly. He'd popped a button off his vest. He weighed the brass in his palm and frowned. Maybe he could sew it back on, if he was careful and if he bought just the right kind of thread.

"Are you okay?"

The dressing room door creaked open, and Blaine peered inside. Kurt flushed a little and clutched at the open front of his shirt. But Blaine had already seen the milky white, hairless skin of his torso. His eyes fixated on the flesh now covered with the held together shirt, and his eyes had gone dark with lust.

"Yes, I'm fine," Kurt snapped.

Blaine hesitated for a second, and then stepped into the dressing room. Kurt shuffled backwards until he hit the mirrored wall.

"Blaine? What are you doing?"

The other boy reached out tentatively, his fingers finding the edges of the unbuttoned shirt. He tugged gently, and the material slipped from Kurt's fingers. The shirt fluttered open, and Blaine pushed it over Kurt's shoulders and down his arms where it bunched at his elbows. A blush crept down Kurt's neck clear to his chest under Blaine's intense scrutiny.

"You're exquisite," he murmured huskily.

The deeper note in his voice sent a thrill through Kurt, and his eyes roved over Blaine like they never had before. The uniform hid so much of his body, which other outfits had shown to be lean and muscular. He reached with shaky fingers, his movement slightly impaired by the shirt around his elbows, and unbuttoned the blazer. Blaine shrugged it off and tossed it on the bench seat without delay. He reached up and loosened his tie.

Something about the action sent off warning bells in Kurt's head. He tried to back away, but he was already flush against the mirror.

"I can't do this."

"Why not?"

"I – I have a boyfriend."

A half-smile tugged at the corner of Blaine's mouth. "Relax, Kurt. This isn't about stealing you away from him. This is about sex."

He moved forward and pinned Kurt to the mirror with his body. His lips found the hollow of Kurt's throat, and he sucked on the pale skin harshly, drawing it between his lips, and biting down. Kurt trembled under the skilled mouth and against the hard body pressed up against his own. He could feel Blaine's erection digging into his hip, and his own pressed against Blaine's stomach.

"Tell me about your boyfriend," Blaine said, pulling off to admire the dark mark blossoming on Kurt's skin.

"That's sick. I'm not telling you about my boyfriend while you give me a hickey. You need to stop that, by the way. I don't like my skin – "

Blaine licked at the dark spot. "Tell you what. You tell me about your boyfriend, and I'll stop marking you."

Kurt huffed. "He's a new transfer student this year. We met because of glee club."

"Hmm. What's he like?"

"He's a good guy. He stands up for what he believes in, even when his opinion isn't popular. He cares about me. God, I can't – Stop. I can't do this to him."

Kurt's hands came to Blaine's shoulders to push him back, but just then, Blaine thrust his hips forward. The taller boy's head fell backwards, and he let out a moan that sounded too loud in the quiet store. His fingers dug in hard to Blaine's shoulder, bunching the white material of his uniform shirt.

Blaine rocked his hips forward again, and this time Kurt pushed back. The shorter boy's head fell onto Kurt's shoulder as he seized his hips and began thrusting in earnest. No longer teasing, he rubbed his hard cock against Kurt's through their pants. Their breathing became heavy, and sweat broke out on the skin under their clothes.

Their heavy movements shook the dressing room wall in a way that was going to get them noticed if they kept it up, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care just then. This friction felt too good, and the need for release was too great. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes bugged out. Their frantic thrusting was reflected back at him from three sides. He could see every angle and admire the way Blaine's mouth hung open against his chest and the way his muscles shifted beneath his clothes as he thrust upwards.

"Fuck, that's hot," Kurt groaned.

Blaine slammed his hips into Kurt three more times. His body jerked against Kurt as he came, and he bit down hard into Kurt's chest. The countertenor gasped in pain, but Blaine's shuddering thrusts during his orgasm felt so good.

The shorter boy went still after his climax subsided, and Kurt pushed his hips out in protest. He was not going to let Blaine use him to get off and then stop, damn it. He needn't have worried. Blaine's fingers worked free the button on his pants and slid down the zipper. He slipped his hands inside Kurt's underwear. He stroked firmly with one hand while the other rolled Kurt's balls.

Kurt's head fell back against the mirror, and he fought to keep sounds from escaping his throat as his orgasm neared. Soon, he felt the tight coiling in his lower stomach. He released with a shudder into Blaine's waiting hand and a strangled sob on his lips. He sagged against the wall, and Blaine removed his hands.

"I can't believe we just did this for real," Kurt whispered.

He looked up to see Blaine wiping come off his hand with a handkerchief. When his fingers were clean, he picked up his blazer and draped it over his arm. He held it strategically in front of the wet spot on his gray uniform pants.

"So, that's it?" Kurt wondered. "You're just leaving now?"

"What do you want me to do? You have a boyfriend, remember?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "This isn't going to happen again."

Blaine snorted. "Oh, I'm pretty sure it will."

He opened the dressing room door and walked out. Kurt hurriedly pulled his shirt back onto his shoulders and did up the many buttons and zippers. When he emerged from the dressing room, Blaine was already almost out the door.

Lindsey appeared at Kurt's side, smiling widely as she gazed between Blaine's retreating form and Kurt watching him go. She made cooing sounds in the back of her throat.

"I like your boyfriend," she commented. "He's sweet. But why's he wearing that uniform? I thought he transferred to your school, like, months ago."

"Hmm. He did," Kurt answered. He smiled down at her. "It's just a game we're playing."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Just so we're on the same page ... "The Game" is a roleplaying game between Kurt and Blaine, and a red herring between author and reader.


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